Good Intentions
by TooMuchPressure88
Summary: I’m not running from you, I’m running for you." Eric needs to help Kyle. And the only way he can do this is by leaving him. But will this help Kyle, or destroy him? Two songfics, Hate Me and Half Alive.
1. Hate Me

_Good Intentions_

Two South Park songfics

Eric's POV, KylexCartman

Song: _Hate Me_ by Blue October

Disclaimer: South Park belongs to Matt and Trey, and Hate Me belongs to Blue October

This is one of the weirder things I've written, but it doesn't really get weird until chapter 2.

* * *

Shirts, pants, shoes. That's all I'll need for a while. Scratch that; that's all I can have for a while. Without you, I'll never have all that I need. But it's not me we're thinking about here.

You once said that it was impossible for me to think of anyone except myself. That's true, up until now. And the funny thing is, the one time I actually do something for you, it's going to hurt both of us like a bitch. But it'll just last a while. For you.

But I can't think about that now. Because if I do, I'll just go running back to you and wrap you in my arms. I'll hurt you again.

_I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head  
__They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed  
__Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone  
__Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home_

Yes, that's right. It's my fault. I can't believe it took me until now to realize it. I've never admitted myself at fault before; it's always been blamed on you, my mom, the school, the government- anyone but me. But this whole time, it's only been me.

Of course, you stuck with me. But that's just you. You're too kind hearted for your own good. It breaks my heart to see you pat my shoulder after I hit you, telling me that everything's going to be okay. _I_ should be comforting_ you_! You shouldn't have to be strong all the time just to make sure I'm okay. I hear you cry at night.

_There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain  
__An ounce of peace is all I want from you, will you never call again  
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face  
__And will you never try to reach me, it is I that wanted space_

I'm not running from you, I'm running_ for _you. I've tried and failed to keep myself from hurting you. The safest thing for you is to just to forget. Forget all the times I told you that I loved you, because those were followed by shouting matches. Forget all the times we kissed behind the mall, because those were followed by you crying late into the night. Forget all the times we had sex, because those were followed by me hitting you because things didn't go my way. Forget all the times where I was involved. Forget me, my love.

I know it will be hard at first, but there are so many other people that deserve you so much more. Someone who will see you the way I always did deep in my heart. Someone who will feel the warmth radiating from you. Someone who cringes at the thought of ever hurting you the tiniest bit. Someone who will offer their shoulder for you to cry on, instead of making you be the strong one all the time. Because that's impossible, even for someone as strong as you. Don't you want that?

_Hate me today  
__Hate me tomorrow  
__Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you  
__Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow  
__Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you_

If I still thought of only myself, I wouldn't regret having come into your life. I was trapped by a bridge I'd burned myself. The drinking, the smoking, the drugs, – you pulled me out. I just wish I'd gotten to show you that you did.

The drinking is what made me hit you when I was confused. The smoking was what gave me health problems and caused me to puke my guts out every morning. The drugs made me into somebody else completely; it's not even worth explaining.

But when I drunkenly hit you, you would stay with me until I sobered up enough to apologize, and then you wouldn't hear it. You sent me to an Alcoholics Anonymous class so I could help myself. You weren't thinking of yourself at all, you just wanted me to be all right.

I was angry when you took my cigarettes. I didn't realize you were helping me then. I just screamed at you and beat you and insulted you to no end. But you told me that I would feel better soon. That I'd never have that icky taste in my mouth again.

You helped me on the drugs without even knowing it. For the first time, I had guilt trips when I went to go get my stuff. I didn't know what I would do when I got home. I didn't know who would get hurt. I made myself stop.

_I'm sober now for three whole months  
__It's one accomplishment that you helped me with  
__The one thing that always tore us apart  
__Is the one thing I won't touch again  
__In a sick way I want to think you for holding my head up late at night  
__While I was busy waging wars on myself  
__You were trying to stop the fight  
__You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate  
__You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take  
__So I'll drive so fucking far away that I'll never cross your mind  
__And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind_

All done packing? I was hoping it wouldn't go so fast, but I suppose it's all for the best. I scribbled a quick note to my mother. "Moving out. Call you later. Love, Eric." She won't care if I don't explain much. She just wants to know I'm not dead.

Without a second glance back, I grab my suitcase and walk out into the cold night. I'll miss the snowy Colorado weather. No matter how often I complained of it, I still really found it relaxing. But I can't think of the good things, or else I'll convince myself to stay.

I hop into my black Toyota Tundra and start the ignition. Being the awesome car that it is, it starts immediately. Unlike Kenny's piece of shit. Sure, it's a huge truck, but I'm a huge boy, as you always love to point out. I throw my suitcase in the truck bed and pull out of the driveway. I have one stop to make before I go.

It's right around the corner, and the journey is fast. I'd give anything for it to be the slowest ride of my life. I'd give anything to never reach your house. But this isn't about me. For once, it's about you.

I climb from the driver's seat and approach your door, twisting the tiny envelope in my hands. You'll probably open it and laugh your guts out, calling me a fucking fag and swearing on my name. It comforts me to think this, although I know that it's not true.

I stand in front of your house for over a half hour. It's two in the morning, and you're not going to notice me. You're not going to notice if I cry. The tears prick at the corners of my large brown eyes, and I try to ignore them. But they won't be neglected, and they pour down my face and onto my red jacket. I can't make myself utter the two last words.

_And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave  
__Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I have made  
__And like a baby boy I never was a man  
_'_Til I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hands  
__And then I fell down yelling "Make it go away", just make a smile  
__Come back and shine just like it used to be  
__And then she whispered "How can you do this to me?"_

"Bye, Kyle."

With those words, my feet take me down his porch and all the way back to the door of my truck. I want so badly to look back, but I know if I do, I won't be able to leave. I need to leave. You need me to leave.

_Hate me today  
__Hate me tomorrow  
__Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you  
__Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow  
__Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you  
__For you  
__For you  
__For you_

Continue... continue... continue... ------------------------------------------------------------

* * *


	2. Half Alive

_Good Intentions_

Two South Park songfics

Kyle's POV, KylexCartman

Song: _Half Alive _by Secondhand Serenade

Disclaimer: South Park belongs to Matt and Trey, and Half Alive belongs to Secondhand Serenade

Strangeness. Not really that strange, it's just strange that _this_ came out of _my _brain.

* * *

"KYLE! COME DOWN HERE!"

I wake up from the sudden call of my mother. No 'good morning' or anything. But I don't care that she hates me anymore.

"COMING!" I shout back as I climb out of my bed. I search through my closet for a plain white t-shirt, and find it crumpled on the floor. After a quick sniff, I decide that it's decently clean and slide it on. Jeans are easy to find- there's like 10 pairs in my closet. I look in the mirror and wince at my complexion. My face is long and pale, dotted with little freckles on my cheeks and nose. I have a big ass long nose, as the love of my life loves to point out. He's the only one who will ever love my hideous Jew-stereotype appearance.

I slump down the stairs, trying to get used to my own house again. I'd been living with Eric up until last week, when we couldn't afford the apartment anymore and the assholes took it. Now I'm stuck living with my Jew-bitch mom, my workaholic dad, and my stupid 13-year-old brother.

"You got something," my mom tells me, shoving an envelope into my chest as she makes Ike his breakfast. My name is written in large letters that I recognize as Eric's handwriting.

"_Dear Kyle,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Not dead, I'm not suicidal or anything. Jesus, I thought you'd come to that assumption. Anyway, I'm not gone because I hate you or anything like that. I'm gone because I love you. I can't explain it, so I wrote this song so that maybe you can understand my logic._

_I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head  
__They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed  
__Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone  
__Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home_

_There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain  
An ounce of peace is all I want from you, will you never call again  
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face  
And will you never try to reach me, it is I that wanted space_

_Hate me today  
__Hate me tomorrow  
__Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you  
__Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow  
__Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you_

_I'm sober now for three whole months  
__It's one accomplishment that you helped me with  
__The one thing that always tore us apart  
__Is the one thing I won't touch again  
__In a sick way I want to think you for holding my head up late at night  
__While I was busy waging wars on myself  
__You were trying to stop the fight_

_You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate  
__You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take  
__So I'll drive so fucking far away that I'll never cross your mind  
__And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind_

_And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave  
__Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I have made  
__And like a baby boy I never was a man  
__'Til I saw your green eyes cry and I held your face in my hands  
__And then I fell down yelling "Make it go away", just make a smile  
__Come back and shine just like it used to be  
__And then he whispered "How can you do this to me?"Hate me today_

_Hate me tomorrow  
__Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you  
__Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow  
__Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you_

_Kyle, I want you to know that I love you. And that's the reason I'm doing this. I've hurt you too many times. I know you think you love me now, but someday you'll find someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. With love, passion, respect, care, gentleness… the kindness you never got from me. _

_Please move on. Forget that I ever existed. Forget that you met me, that you hated me, that you loved me, that you missed me. Trust me, it'll be so much better if you forget. I'll miss you so much, and I love you._

_Eric Cartman"_

My stomach seems to clench as I read the letter over and over again. My feet betray me and I sink down onto the ground. He's gone. He left because of me and he's never coming back. And how does he expect me to forget him? I remember every single thing about every single part of him. I remember his deep, dark brown eyes. I remember the way he used to stick his tongue out between his thin lips when he was concentrating. I remember his smell, his voice, his feel, his warmth, his everything.

_It's four A.M. I'm waking up to your perfume  
__Don't get up I'll get through on my own  
__I don't know if I'm home  
__Or if I lost the way into your room  
__I'm spiraling into my doom_

"No…" I whisper to myself. Tears are threatening to fall, but I won't let them. I won't accept defeat. He'll come back soon; he has to. He told me that he loves me, he won't just vanish. He'll miss me too much. But it seems as though he doesn't care about his emotions. He cares too much about mine.

I reread his letter. No mention of where he went. But he can't be gone forever. Love always finds a way, and if I can't come to him, fate will bring him back to me. True love has to exist, and it will bring us back together. All I have to do is wait.

* * *

I lie in my room, staring at the ceiling. I'm afraid to do anything else, as it might cause fate confusion. I know you're supposed to just continue your life and let fate do everything, but I can't make myself get out of bed. It's as though I exist, but my heart is paused. It's waiting for his return.

It's been a month since he left, and I haven't moved from this position. My parents are really worried; I can tell. My mom brings me food once a day and I always eat one bite every few hours. I'm afraid that if I eat more, I'll throw up or get really sick. I'm so lonely, and all I want to do right now is die. But I'll stay here and wait for him to come back to me.

_I'm feeling half alive  
__But I know one day you and I will be free  
__To live and die by our own rules  
__Free  
__Despite the fact that men are fools_

The funny thing is, my dad keeps calling all these stupid doctors to talk to me. It's a pretty one-sided conversation. I refuse to speak until Eric comes for me. The doctors want to send me away somewhere, but the first time they tried to move me, I held onto my bed sheets and wouldn't let go. My dad told them to give up. Eric won't find me at some hospital. He'll find me here.

Doesn't he know that the only way he can hurt me is by leaving me? He can hit me all he wants, but as long as I know that he'll be there for me later, I'm fine. I enjoy being able to help him vent his anger. I know it makes him feel better when he screams and beats me, and it may hurt my body, but it doesn't hurt my heart. He's always too drunk or high to realize it's me anyway.

I don't need someone who will treat me gently, I just need him. I don't need someone who makes me feel okay crying, I need him. I don't need anyone else but him. Why can't he realize that and come home?

_I'm almost alive  
__And I need you to try  
__And save me  
__It's okay that we're dying  
__But I need to survive tonight, tonight_

The only thing keeping me from jumping out of my window and ending my life is the fact that he will come back. I know he will.

For now, I have to deal with constant visitors. My mom, my dad, my brother, Stan, Kenny, doctors, some people I know from school, anyone they think that will bring me out of this phase. But it won't work. Not until I look into the chocolate-brown eyes that I'm so faithfully waiting for.

Stan and Kenny are the least irritating of my visitors. At first, they kept telling me to just forget him, and that he's never coming back. But they realized that wouldn't work, and now they just sit with me, reading magazines or playing video games. Sometimes it's even nice to have their company.

* * *

The third month passes, and he still hasn't returned. I still haven't moved. I still know he will be back for me. My family is getting more and more agitated. They tried more forcefully to get me into a hospital, but there was no way I would allow it. The few times the doctors tried to get me off my bed, I clutched the sheets as hard as I could, screamed as loud as I could, and flailed as much as I could. And as soon as they put me back down, I was still and silent. All I ask is that they leave me here. Is that too much to ask?

The best part is, I'm allergic to sedative medications, so they can't get me to calm down for long enough to get me off my bed. Haha, losers.

Kenny and Stan still come by a lot. They ask me if I'm going to give up soon. They ask me if I'll finally realize he's not coming.

But that's ridiculous. I know he's coming. I know for sure that he will come back. I don't care if it takes months, years, or decades. I refuse to move until he comes back.

_Well excuse me while I get killed softly  
__Heart slows down and I can hardly tell you I'm okay  
__At least 'til yesterday  
__You know you got me off my highest guard  
__Believe me when I say it's hard  
__We'll get through tonight_

"Kyle?"

I don't respond. He knows I won't.

He approaches my bedside and sits next to me, his light blue eyes trying to meet mine. But mine don't leave the ceiling.

"Kyle, you've got to stop this."

I know he'll come back, Stan. Just wait.

"Please, Ky, we're really getting worried about you," he continues, "If he hasn't come back yet, he probably won't."

Man, I'd hate to put my faith in that guy. Three months and he's ready to give up. I intend to stay here for years if I have to.

"You haven't gotten exercise, and you're getting too thin," he comments.

Heh, I've always been too thin. Why's he complaining now? Eric never complained about it.

"Come on, man, don't make me resort to Plan C."

Not a single ounce of curiosity hits me when Stan mentions Plan C. The minute I see Eric again is when I'll feel again.

_And I know one day you and I will be free  
__To live and die by our own rules  
__Free  
__Despite the fact that men are fools_

Month number five just passed without incident. And not a single budge from me, except when _they_ try to budge me, of course. Stan keeps telling me that Plan C or whatever is going to work, but I still don't care. I just want to know where the hell Eric is.

I haven't lost a single ounce of hope that he's coming, but I am beginning to wonder when. I still plan on staying here until he comes back, but how long could it possibly take him? I can feel my health fading, but I still won't move. According to Kenny, I look dead. My skin's all pale and I'm all cold. Eew. But it just represents the way I feel, inside and out.

Today, something strange is happening. I can hear the voices of lots of people downstairs. None of them consist of Mom, Dad, or Ike, but I can pick out Stan and Kenny's voices. Oh god, what could they possibly have planned?

The moment this question pops through my head, they burst through the door.

"He's right here."

I can't see it, but I can tell they've got a camera with them. Well, if they're going to video me just sitting here, then that's a waste of my life. The thing starts rolling, and a newscaster introduces himself to the camera.

Then I hear them introduce Stan and Kenny as two 'close friends.' They then proceed to explain my situation.

_I'm almost alive  
__And I need you to try  
__And save me  
__It's okay that we're dying  
__But I need to survive tonight, tonight_

Stan touches my arm and speaks to the camera. "Okay, this is a message to one Eric Cartman. We know you're out there somewhere, and that you'll hear this somehow. I don't know where the fuck you are, but you need to hurry up. He's fading. They say he won't live much longer. Come on, fat ass, Kyle's waiting!"

So I'm dying, huh? They shouldn't worry about that. I refuse to die until he comes. I know I don't have much control over it, but I'm sure that fate won't kill me off. The newscasters leave, muttering about a slow news day, and leave me alone in the room with Stan and Kenny.

"That was the national news, Ky," Stan tells me, "There's no way Cartman didn't hear it."

Kenny nods. "Even if he didn't see it, someone will have to have told him about it. He'll be here soon, buddy. Just hang on."

_And you touch my hand ever so slightly  
__And the deadly look she casts upon me  
__I won't regret, I won't regret  
__I won't regret, I won't regret_

The next morning, my breakfast talk with my brother is interrupted by the doorbell ringing repeatedly. Ike turns around and bounds out the door to get it. Normally this would be rude in a conversation, but it was pretty one-sided. And he's a bit late to the door.

"WHERE IS HE?"

Is that…? I have to see it to believe it. There's arguing downstairs before I hear thumping coming up the one flight of steps. It could be anyone, but I'm praying that it's him. I won't move until I see that it's him.

My door opens quietly and I hear whoever it is approaching me. I still can't see his face, but he's inching closer and closer until I can smell him. It smells like him.

"Ky?"

My entire body tenses up, in confusion of what to do. I haven't moved in so long, it seems like I'm cemented to this position. But I couldn't move anyway, because he wrapped his arms around my neck and rested his head on my chest. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

My brain pulsates and tries so hard to tell my body to move, to hug him back, but it's like I'm stuck in this position. I want him so badly right now, and he's so close, and I can't even move my own god damn body!

At a loss, I burst into tears. Eric sits up quickly, startled. I've never cried in front of him. I only did at night, after he was asleep. I'm not sure if they're tears of joy or frustration. I can't make myself stop, even as he wipes them away on my cheeks.

"I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry," he repeats, hugging me tightly again, "I didn't know… I never would have left… I was trying to _not _hurt you."

I can't answer him. All I can do is cry like a pathetic pussy baby, but he doesn't call me out on it. He's the only person in the world I feel okay crying in front of. I squint my eyes shut in concentration, trying to make myself hug him back. My breath shoots out in irritation when I can't.

He finally understands my problem.

"You stuck?" he asks, "Don't worry about hugs or anything. We have the whole rest of our lives to do that. I'm never leaving again."

* * *

I don't think I'm going to continue this. If you want me to, stick it in your review, but if not, I'll just leave it here.

PLEASE REVIEW!  
~Lori


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